The Twin Goddesses Are Watching
by Buddhacide
Summary: The wry and sarcastic Galatea is the Rosa Chinensis of the student council at Teresa's Catholic College. She has yet to take in a petite souer, which worries her fellow Roses. What surprises await when she meets a cheerful first-year called Cynthia?
1. The Blooming of the Roses

**The Twin Goddesses Are Watching**

A casual Claymore fanfic, Marimite style. Totally for fun, just had to write it down so I wouldn't forget the ideas in my head.

Synopsis: Cynthia is a cheerful and independent new student at Teresa's Catholic College, a prestigious high school for girls. On her first day at school, she develops a tender attraction to Galatea, a sarcastic, cynical, and somewhat anti-establishment third-year. Cynthia will later discover that Galatea is a member of the college's student council, the Lily Mountain Council. A triad of influential third-year students called the "Roses" lead the Council. There are three families of Roses: Red, Yellow, and White, and are respectively headed by Red Rose Galatea (Rosa Chinensis), Yellow Rose Miria (Rosa Foetida), and White Rose Flora (Rosa Gigantea).

Despite her sarcastic personality, it is because of her experience and wisdom that Galatea is a Rose. She has even violated the _souer_ tradition of the College, which demands that a second-year student pass on her rosary to a first-year, forming a bond as sisters for each other's sake. Now in her third year, Galatea still has not chosen a _souer_ – until now. What lies in store for Cynthia and the three Rose families?

**Chapter 1: The Blooming of the Roses**

_Every morning, the girls of Teresa's Catholic College pray before the statue of the Virgin Mary upon arriving before moving on to class. Their youthful spirits are tempered by the refined elegance of the school's tradition. Their uniforms are deep green and haunting silver. Their collars are prim and tidy, and the pleats of their skirts are to be kept neat._

_Walking slowly is preferred here._

_Teresa's Catholic College: it is a school for silver-eyed maidens, cultivating spirituality, self-discipline, and modesty in all its students._

* * *

It all began at the statue of the Virgin Mary.

The summer holidays were over, and new academic year had begun at Teresa's Catholic College. Its three most influential seniors had just finished their morning prayers in front of Mary, their dark-green and silver uniforms impeccably worn. Known as the three Roses, they were the leaders of the student council, the Lily Mountain Council. The tallest and the most haughty-looking of the three stood in the middle, her wry expression betraying her boredom with the routine that was expected to be performed every time students passed the statue on their way to the school or back home.

Her name was Galatea, the Red Rose and de facto leader of the Lily Mountain Council.

The schoolgirls flanking her were of the same year, but remained her juniors in terms of academic achievement. To her left stood Miria the Yellow Rose (_Rosa Foetida_). To her right was Flora, the White Rose (_Rosa Gigantea_). They were both worried about Galatea. Like them, she had only one more year to go before graduation.

"It's more than past the time you found a _petite souer_, Galatea," spoke up Miria. She had long, spiky hair and a prominent, almost boyish forehead. She was graced with an athletic body that she had built through two years as the general secretary of the fencing club. So feared was her aggressive style and blinding speed that she had been given the name of "Phantom Miria". Her eyes were strict but on this occasion, they were filled with genuine concern. "It is unheard of that a student of your stature would leave the school without the experience of being a _grande souer_. Giving your rosary to a younger schoolmate and guiding her throughout her time at this institution – " She pointed at Galatea's exquisitely carved prayer beads, which were worn around her wrist. " – is a time-honoured, sacred tradition. Flora and I passed on our own rosaries to our sisters last year. And honestly, it makes our school life better, too. I can't imagine my stress on the Lily Mountain Council without Clare to help me and keep me company."

"Miria is right," said Flora, fluttering her elegant eyelashes. Shorter than Galatea by a head, Flora was stunningly attractive and the literal pride of Teresa's College. The Triune God had blessed her with an angelic body and a positively divine voice. She was the leading singer of the choir club, and her exemplary record at the school had only served to boost her popularity even further. Her wavy, golden hair spilled down to her chest and rippled in the sunlight like a waterfall from Heaven. Yet her concerns were quite down-to-earth. "Time is running out. Miria and I are worried that you will be graduating without ever giving your rosary to a first-year."

Galatea smiled as sincerely as sincerity would allow, but even then, the curl of her lips betrayed a certain irony. Taller than both Miria and Flora, she was the most intellectually accomplished of the three and whose sophistication and class differed from Flora's more classical femininity. It was by chance that she had become a Rose at all, let alone the most influential one by the title of _Rosa Chinensis_. "I couldn't find the right girl. That's all."

"You've been saying that for more than a semester," said Miria. "I mean no disrespect, Rosa Chinensis, but you've walked past the holy gaze of Mary for the past two years without a younger student by your side. Have you ever stopped to think about how she might feel?"

Galatea stopped herself from snorting. "If two years doesn't matter, I'm sure a decades-old sculpture will forgive my laziness for another," she said, before moving past Flora and walking in the direction of the main school buildings.

"Galatea! Watch your irreverence," reproached Miria indignantly.

"I haven't had breakfast yet," yawned Galatea, stretching lazily. "I'm grabbing some grub from the tuckshop."

"Grub?" blurted Flora. "You want worms?"

"Wait, Galatea," called Miria.

"I'll see you in physics class, anyway," called Galatea, waving a casual hand. "Catch you guys later."

"That Rosa Chinensis," sighed Miria, gazing at the receding back of Galatea. "Sometimes, her attitude really throws me off-track. It's as if she doesn't believe in the traditions and principles of the College. It's as if she answers to God only when she feels like it."

"Forgive her," smiled Flora, her melodious voice one with the rustling of the autumn leaves. "She is a unique leader. Don't you remember? This year, she'll be leading the Friday Scripture classes in the chapel again. I saw her there all the time last year, after my choir club. Galatea guides the younger students without interfering with how they think. She lets people fulfil their potential by giving them a space where humour, critical thinking and freedom of thought are emphasized over the fire and brimstone theology that sometimes plagues our seminaries. We sometimes do not notice, but she is truly a kind-hearted senior."

"Your words sound very Taoist to me," smiled Miria. "Or should I say secular?"

"As a faithful Catholic, I like to indulge in my ecumenical impulse," smiled Flora, and they shared a giggle as they resumed their walk to first period.

* * *

Galatea gave a sigh as she walked past the oak trees that lined the pathway to the cafeteria block. Very often, she wondered if she was better suited to a public school. She wasn't a good enough Christian, it was true – she admired most of the teachings of Christ, but the attitude of some of the teachers here reminded her of her stepfather, Ermita. She despised rules, regulations, and justifications of shifty things in the name of said rules. She felt lucky that Teresa's College didn't feel like an institutionalized version of Ermita.

She glanced ahead of her as she felt another presence. A girl was standing in the way, looking around the trees nervously. A foot shorter than Galatea, she looked anxious since it was almost class time. "Yo," called Galatea, giving a brisk salute. "You look like you could use a hand."

"Good morning," said the girl shyly, turning around and looking at Galatea. Her silver eyes were wide and innocent, and her hair was arranged into tails that draped in front of her shoulders. Her hands, placed modestly in front of her, were holding a black schoolbag. "Sorry I didn't see you. I was waiting for Tabitha and Yuma, but I think they got lost already."

Galatea gave an indulgent smile. The new student was cute. Clearly, she wasn't used to the etiquette that had to be observed at least during the mornings. She liked that. "You're with friends? How in God's good name did you manage to get separated in a place like this? I shudder to think what will happen to you guys when you're actually inside the school." She stared at the first-year's uniform. "Look at your neckerchief. You forgot to do it up properly." She moved closer to the embarrassed girl. She reached for her slowly, and was impressed that Cynthia did not shy away. "I hate doing these kinds of things," she sighed, "but this is so you won't get into trouble with the busybodies and teachers later."

The girl with the tails blushed as Galatea tied a modest knot and tightened the cloth. Her hands were gentle but moved with purpose. Silence reigned for several moments as first-year and third-year stood still in one another's company. Time seemed to slow down just for them, and the leaves of the oaks seemed to stop rustling. The atmosphere, for what it was worth, felt unexpectedly intimate.

"What's your name?" purred Galatea quietly. She did not bother to step back.

"Cynthia," said the girl eagerly, looking up at her and beaming. Their silver eyes were glued to each other. "My name is Cynthia."

The tall senior nodded as she completed her task. "I see. Well, I'll come around to your block at recess, just to make sure you and your friends are doing okay on your first day at school," she said, turning her back and walking towards the cafeteria. "Why don't you find Tabitha and Yuma before the bells ring? I need to get going anyway. My stomach is really growling."

"You haven't had breakfast?" asked Cynthia in surprise.

"I don't like eating at home."

Cynthia wriggled in her green-silver uniform uncomfortably. "May I know your name, too?"

"Ah, right. Sorry, I forgot, even though I asked you first. My name is Galatea. Pleased to meet you, little kitten."

Cynthia's eyes widened at her words. "Wait – you don't mean to say – that you're Rosa Chinensis?"

"Well, I wasn't going to say that," said Galatea, scratching her head, "but you're right. I'm the Red Rose."

Cynthia began to bow repeatedly in panic. The private mood seemed to have shattered. "I – I'm sorry!" she cried. "I didn't know you were a Rose of the Lily Mountain Council! I read all about the school's traditions before I came! I had no idea you were – so high up there – "

She made an unhappy face, puffing out her cheeks. "Geez, you could've told me earlier, Rosa Chinensis. I mean, someone so important – !" The poor girl flushed again, fidgeting with her bag and shuffling her black shoes.

Galatea smirked, waving a hand as she continued to walk away. "You're a funny one. That's all I can say. Catch ya later."

She had thoroughly enjoyed Cynthia's reaction. It felt so genuine, so real, and not to mention hilarious. It had been a long time since she felt like laughing out loud. It was almost malicious, taking advantage of Cynthia's naïveté. But it had made her day. Already, she could feel herself taking an interest to this trusting, cheerful girl.

"Cynthia the kitten… huh?" murmured Rosa Chinensis to herself.

Suddenly, the rosary around her wrist felt lighter.


	2. Little Kitten, Little Sister

_Every morning, the girls of Teresa's Catholic College pray before the statue of the Virgin Mary upon arriving. Their youthful spirits are tempered by the refined elegance of the school's traditions. Their uniforms are deep green and haunting silver. Their collars are prim and tidy, and the pleats of their skirts are to be kept neat._

_Walking slowly is preferred here._

_Teresa's Catholic College: it is a school for silver-eyed maidens, cultivating spirituality, self-discipline, and modesty in all its students._

* * *

**Chapter 2: Little Kitten, Little Sister**

Cynthia's table was by the window, and even a ray of sunlight was enough to distract her from participating fully in the class. She knew it wasn't supposed to be a big deal, but she couldn't resist replaying the morning's chance meeting in her mind. Galatea's teasing voice echoed around in her head as if it was empty and could be filled only by Rosa Chinensis' words. Cynthia sighed, playing with one of her hairtails. It was only her first day at the Catholic academy, and she already felt bored. Before she could start counting bouncing sheep, however, the church bells rang, and the high-pitched laughter, giggles, and excited gossiping of her classmates jolted her out of her daydreaming.

It was lunchtime.

"I'm glad we ended up in the same class," came a voice to her right. She glanced up at a student whose hair had been tied into a ponytail and draped in front of her shoulder. She looked calm but open. "Then at least we can enjoy recess together if we don't make many friends."

"Recess time?" said Cynthia, blinking. "Oh, sure, I guess. Sorry I spaced out. Let's eat!" She gave a bright smile. Tabitha was her childhood friend, and it had been a dream for both of them to attend the same high school together. It was incredible that their parents had managed to enrol them at the same private school.

Tabitha sat down in the empty seat in front of Cynthia's desk. "What did you bring for your very first lunch at Teresa's?"

"Uh… let's see." Cynthia rummaged around in her bag for a blue lunchbox. "Hmm. I made some sandwiches and brought some chocolates." She handed a wrapped sweet to Tabitha. "Care for a peppermint choc?"

"Cynthia! Tabitha!" rang out a nervous voice. The two new students stopped at the sounds of their tall friend Yuma, who was younger than both by several months and easily the least confident of them all. She had long blonde hair that should have lent her great beauty, but her childish face and nerve-wracked eyes seemed to ruin her assets. Yuma stopped before Tabitha, catching her breath slowly. She had been running. Where she had been, Cynthia didn't know.

"What's going on?" whispered Tabitha. "Look! Some of our classmates are staring at us!" She pointed around, observing some of the girls whispering to each other. It was understandable that they, as a trio of brand-new students, would attract some surprised stares.

"But this is important," panted out Yuma, oblivious to her the messy state of her uniform. "I was getting lunch at the tuckshop when I was approached by this girl with short hair… she was a senior. Her name was Clare, and she's Rosa Foetida's _en bouton_!"

"You mean she's the petite souer of Miria, the Yellow Rose?" said Tabitha, shocked. "No wonder why she could find you. She must have been given the information she needed, since she's on the Lily Mountain Council. But why did she want to find you?"

"Well, Clare actually had a message from Rosa Foetida. She said that Rosa Chinensis couldn't come to our classroom today. Apparently she was planning to, but got delayed by extra-curricular commitments." Yuma paused, unintentionally adding to the sudden drama. Her jumpy eyes reflected her own confusion. "That's why for whatever reason, the Roses want us to go to their lodge after school!"

"The student council has invited us to go to their headquarters?" confirmed Tabitha in disbelief. "What did we do? We just arrived today!"

"Why would the Lily Mountain Council suddenly want to see us?" cried Cynthia in a panic. "We're just first-years, too!" She suddenly tapped her head lightly in realization. _This morning… what did I say to Galatea?_

_She wanted to see me again_…

"Oh, no. I told her about you guys!" she confessed, looking extremely chagrined. "I knew she wouldn't keep our meeting a secret."

"Cynthia!" cried Tabitha and Yuma at the same time. "Did you run into someone this morning?"

Cynthia lowered her head, staring at the marks on her table. "When we lost our way and got separated, I actually ran into… into the Red Rose. I… I… told her that I was looking for my friends… for you guys."

She kept silent about the rest of their conversation.

"So… you actually met Galatea by chance, the Red Rose. So that's how the other Roses know about us. That and I bet they have access to the student registry," sighed Tabitha, slumping into her chair. "Wow. Way to start the new semester."

"What do we do?" cried Yuma. "We can't be in trouble, can we?"

Cynthia closed her eyes, her heart starting to beat faster. Galatea's wry face was still seared into her mind. _Catch ya later_, echoed the Rose's voice.

_Just what do you want with me, Rosa Chinensis_? she thought to herself.

"No. We're not in trouble," she said suddenly, looking at Tabitha and Yuma. "But let's go anyway. Do you have a map of the school?"

* * *

It was afternoon, and the autumn sun had already splashed a bright red hue across the sky.

Inspired by French architecture, the headquarters of the student leaders was a testament to its unusual power and privilege within the College. Surrounded by a garden with trimmed shrubs, it loomed over the three first-years, its windows peering down at them like an imperious mistress. It had two storeys, and according to their school diaries' information, the common room of the Lily Mountain Council was upstairs.

"Wow," gasped Yuma dumbly.

"This is very impressive lodge," admitted Tabitha. She gripped her schoolbag nervously.

"Well, we're already here," said Cynthia resolutely. More importantly, she wanted to set things straight with Galatea and understand why she had summoned them here. "Let's go." She approached the wooden door and knocked lightly. "Hello?" she called. No response came from within. She shrugged, glancing at Tabitha. "Let's just try our luck." She turned the gilded doorknob, and to her surprise, it was unlocked. She pushed, and her black shoes tapped lightly on the floorboards. There wasn't much to see on the bottom level, except for a pantry and a pair of couches. It was dark except for the afternoon sunlight that snuck past the patterned curtains.

"There's the staircase," whispered Yuma. "Let's go up."

They tiptoed up the staircase, unable to stop the insistent creaking of the wooden planks. It felt slightly hot. They travelled up two flights, turning a corner, and found themselves staring at another door. From within, voices could be heard. Cynthia's heart skipped a beat as she recognized Galatea's. "They're in there." She picked up her pace and neared the door, knocking impatiently.

"It's unlocked. Please come in," came Flora's sweet voice.

Cynthia turned the doorknob and pushed, stepping into a much better lit room and letting her gaze fall on the rectangular table before her. Tabitha and Yuma followed her and gasped. Before them on the white tablecloth were three white teacups filled with fresh, Earl Grey tea. On the opposite side sat the three Roses, their faces illuminated by the natural sunlight as well as the ceiling's fluorescent bulb. Miria and Flora flanked Galatea, sitting formally and respectably with their hands on their lap. The girl between them, in contrast, had her hands behind her head, and it was obvious that she was leaning back, rocking on her timber chair as she observed the new arrivals nonchalantly.

"Good afternoon, Cynthia, Tabitha, and Yuma," said Flora, smiling. "I apologize for calling you up here so abruptly. It seems Rosa Foetida's en bouton succeeded in reaching you." She gestured to the chairs before her. "I prepared hot tea for you. Please, sit down and make yourselves comfortable."

The three juniors simply stood there silently, silver eyes wide and mouths agape.

"Don't you remember your manners?" said Miria sternly. "Bow at the waist and answer the White Rose properly. Students of Teresa's College are held to a high standard of feminine etiquette."

"It matters not, Miria," said Flora quickly. "It's only their first day."

"Yeah. Let them go," drawled Galatea. "I bet they'll get used to it faster than I did, anyway."

"Rosa Chinensis!" cried Miria. "You should also set an example for these freshmen!"

"Okay-dokey." Galatea smiled at the juniors. "Girls, I want you to tell Miria your names. Then, do sit down and drink your tea."

"Tabitha!" cried the junior with the pigtail. "I apologize for our impoliteness." She hurried to sit across from Miria.

"Y… Y… Yuma," stuttered the longhaired girl, who couldn't hide behind Tabitha any longer. Standing in the presence of the Roses was too much for her, especially on a Monday afternoon. Fidgeting, Cynthia was about to announce her own name when Galatea interrupted, much to her horror.

"Don't bother. They know," she purred. "They got me to tell them about what I did with you this morning."

"This… this morning?" stuttered Cynthia, shuffling towards her chair and sitting down. She stared into the silver eyes of the Roses, slightly intimidated.

"Galatea tied your neckerchief, didn't she?" said Flora. She lifted her own cup to her lips and took a polite, silent sip. "Do you know that she rarely interacts with her juniors unless they interest her?"

"I'm sure you know about the souer system at this school. It's a way of life, something that forges friendships and loves for a lifetime. A senior is supposed bestow her rosary on a younger student that she shares an affinity with. They then become sisters, and they are to support and care for each other until the senior's graduation. Rosa Chinensis is the only member of the Council that hasn't passed on her rosary," sighed Miria. "Even when my own petite souer, second-year Clare, has already bonded with a first-year called Clarice."

"So students can become grande seours as early as second year," confirmed Tabitha, her hands placed around her warm teacup.

"Miria and I passed on our rosaries when we were in our second year here. This year is Galatea's final chance to experience the fulfilment of being a grande souer." Flora looked closely at Cynthia. "I do not wish to burden you, but I believe that our Red Rose took an immediate liking to you when she met you on the way to school today. I think you may be the one – the only one – to enchant her with life at this college. You may be the girl she needs to be truly happy. She is wise, yes. Teachers admire her knowledge and critical understanding of theology. Her grades are near perfect. But as far as I'm concerned, without a little sister to support her, she is ultimately lacking a piece that completes her. If she cannot give away her rosary… then she will not have a girl to love."

Tabitha and Yuma stared at Cynthia as Miria nodded, agreeing with Flora. "I don't know everything about you, and I don't know if you can be trusted with everything. But if you're the one who Galatea can be vulnerable around…"

Galatea abruptly stood up. "Very well, Rosa Foetida. Very well, Rosa Gigantea. I get you. Sometimes, I forget to seize the initiative. _Carpe diem, carpe diem_. Thank you both for reminding me, my dear, loyal Roses." She strode around Flora and past the edge of the table, passing a bewildered Yuma and stopping before Cynthia, who stared up at her in surprise.

"Come with me," said Rosa Chinensis, brusquely grabbing Cynthia by the hand and leading her towards the door. "I'm having a few words with you."

"Huh?" mumbled Cynthia, too confused to even resist.

Yuma and Tabitha let out shocked cries as their friend was pulled away from the room. Miria shouted after Galatea angrily. "How can she carry herself so casually, so carelessly? Sometimes, I worry for her."

Flora simply closed her eyes and sipped at her cup of tea again.

"It is so difficult to know her thoughts behind those inscrutable eyes," she said quietly.

* * *

She took her downstairs and trapped her in the corner of the lounge. There was no escape. There was only the face of the Red Rose, and her arms, and her tall, shapely, warm body.

"Please, Rosa Chinensis – " cried Cynthia. She was pinned against the wall, although she was not in an uncomfortable position. Galatea made sure of it so that she wouldn't have any excuse to struggle. "This is so awkward – "

"Call me anything but that flowery name, a sterile product of legalistic convention forced upon us by shrivelled old nuns and priests. Not to say I won't become one someday, but I don't want anyone to spoil my marvellous school life before I go to university." Rosa Chinensis stared closely at Cynthia, her silver eyes wandering across her trembling form. Each could feel the other's hot breath against their faces. Neither tried to break free from the shared gaze.

Galatea smirked, partly to herself. "Looks like Miria and Flora will be getting their way after all. I'm such a bad example. What am I even doing as the head Rose? In time, can you answer that for me?"

She shook her left hand suddenly, loosening the rosary around her wrist. She clasped the prayer beads and held them in front of her junior's eyes, dangling the shining crucifix before her.

The gesture was straightforward, the request, simple.

Cynthia blanched, her heart pounding incessantly in her red ears. She could not have imagined, on her very first day at this private academy, that she would be looked upon with such interest by the most influential students. But it was the cool, mysterious, somewhat unpredictable Galatea that haunted her the most. Did she dare to think that she was about to become the little sister of the Lily Mountain Council's Red Rose?

Did she dare to believe that she would be chosen over an entire grade of freshmen so quickly?

"Why are… why are you doing this?"

"Because you're fun, and you know it. You've caught my eye, you've earned my curiosity."

"But what… What exactly do you want from me? It's been bothering me ever since you touched me this morning." She looked pleadingly into Galatea's eyes. "Please tell me, so I know what to do."

Galatea stopped, surprised. Then her lips broke into a smile. "Alright, you win. I'll tell you what I want. Accept my rosary, first-year kitten," she whispered. "Become my little sister. Make my last year at this school a magical one."

The die had been cast, and the Rubicon had been crossed. "Become… your _petite souer_?" whispered Cynthia, her lips less than an inch away from Galatea's.

The Red Rose smirked at her, nodding as their hands touched and clasped. "One way or another, I'm going to make you mine."


	3. Her Choice and Her Way

_Every morning, the girls of Teresa's Catholic College pray before the statue of the Virgin Mary upon arriving. Their youthful spirits are tempered by the refined elegance of the school's traditions. Their uniforms are deep green and haunting silver. Their collars are prim and tidy, and the pleats of their skirts are to be kept neat._

_Walking slowly is preferred here._

_Teresa's Catholic College: it is a school for silver-eyed maidens, cultivating spirituality, self-discipline, and modesty in all its students._

* * *

**Chapter 3: Her Choice and Her Way**

School was over for Monday.

"What a pain," groaned Tabitha, stretching. "I'm sick of theology already. Father Rimuto can't stop ranting on about Augustine and how much of a hack Origen was. When are we going to move on to some modern men who actually speak to _us_?"

"I fell asleep, so… I just want my afternoon period to be more interesting," sighed Yuma, stacking her copious notes, which probably wouldn't help her study anyway. Falling asleep and drawing long lines across her notebook pages was never a good way to maintain writing legibility. "I'm just glad Miria's offered us a place in the fencing club. I'm not sure we even deserve to be signed on by Rosa Foetida, but I really want a place in a club. The extra-curricular activities all look better than the actual classes."

"Apparently, everyone has nicer things to say about Galatea's philosophy club than Father Vincent's scripture class."

"He's a wonderful man of the cloth, but his teaching style's like, from the Middle Ages. Then you've got Father Rubel. An inquisitor who takes quiet pleasure in his job, if I ever saw one." Yuma paused. "I haven't seen Cynthia since the end of recess. Is she with Galatea now? Do you know if she accepted her rosary?"

"No," answered Tabitha. "She stood up from her desk, remembering their dramatic first visit to the Roses. "I wish I could help her, but Galatea is mysterious even to her peers, let alone the younger students. I think she's going to ask for some advice first."

Tabitha found herself staring at nothing.

"It's funny, isn't it? It's only been a week, and we're already in with the Lily Mountain Council. I wonder what's in store for you and me under Miria, Yuma?"

* * *

_Music Room 2C_

Cynthia felt nervous. Despite the sublime, flawless piano melody that was filtering past the closed door, her heart could not be eased. Nevertheless, she decided to give it a shot. "Is that Rosa Gigantea?" she called, knocking on the wood with two knuckles.

"Do come in, Cynthia," came Flora's voice from within. The piano fell silent briefly. "I've been expecting you." And with that, the melody continued smoothly, undisturbed by the interruption.

Cynthia opened the door and stepped in. She was in a performance hall of average size, with a grand piano in the far left corner that obscured Flora's figure slightly. Still in her school uniform, the White Rose was a virtuoso of stunning skill, her fingers moving yet naturally as she brought to life Chopin's Winter Etude. The hall was trembling with the power and expertise of her practice. Her expression was awash with channelled emotion as she completed the end to the piece, before taking a deep breath and moving on to a different movement, this time by Mozart. She continued to play even as Cynthia walked over and moved to stand behind her. She gave a small smile, although she did not directly look at the prospective en bouton. "You still haven't assented to Rosa Chinensis' offer," she deduced.

"I said I'd think about it," admitted Cynthia. "But I don't even know what to think now. All I can think about is her detached eyes and relaxed lips."

"There is no need to be suspicious," said Flora, closing her eyes as she continued to play effortlessly. "Rosa Chinensis is not perfect. Who among us is? But the Virgin loves all, even the silver-eyed girls at this College who harbour secret affections for each other. At least, that is what I desperately want to believe."

"It's too much for me," mumbled Cynthia, failing to notice Flora's subtle bombshell. "Who does Galatea think she is, treating me so casually and making me feel… like this? Her reasons for taking me just seem… so random. I can't help but feel frustrated and curious at the same time."

"You are so genuine," beamed Flora. "I thank you for your honesty. Then I will be frank with you too. Let me tell you about the elephant in the room: the Red Rose is selfish despite her closeness to God and spoilt despite her high rank in this school. She made no secret of her fondness for you. She saw something in you that interested her, so she decided to keep you for herself. That is how it is. Romantic? Greedy? Innocent? Carnal? That's all up to you. Love is what you make it." She let her fingers trail off the keys, and the hall was suddenly echoing with her angelic voice. "Of course, you are free to reject her. In many ways, she has rejected the Lord in ways we wouldn't dare to imagine. But it would be a waste of the possibilities – your kindness and innocence may be the key to unlocking the box of secrets that is her heart. You may come closer to knowing and loving her. But if you don't want to… do you dislike Galatea?"

"No," cried Cynthia. "I…" She stared at Flora's smooth hands. "No. I don't hate her at all. I'm just scared we might disappoint each other. She likes to push my buttons, but she seems somehow distant as well. It's hard to describe. It's like… she wants to keep me, but like a pet. I hate that… and enjoy it, too."

Flora smiled again. "You are doing fine. I only ask you – as a third-year who wants to earn your friendship – to hold on to our Red Rose. She can prickly, but she is ultimately a precious flower that needs to be nourished and watered."

"You are so kind," blurted Cynthia. "I'm the one who should be trying to earn your friendship."

"Think nothing of it," replied Flora, giving a small bow of her head. "After all, you and your friends _are_ the new students. It is you we should be trying to impress."

Cynthia allowed Rosa Gigantea's words to sink into her heart. They had a greater wisdom than any sermon she had ever heard. By the time Flora returned to her piano practice, the junior had made up her mind.

She would take the rosary that had been dangled before her eyes last week.

* * *

_The next morning_

Galatea had her hands joined in prayer before the statue of Mary, but she always felt like she was thinking to herself. It felt lonely inside this head of hers. Empty. Silent. That is, until a voice rang out behind her in the breezy autumn morning.

"Rosa Chinensis!"

Galatea smiled broadly, turning around and feasting her eyes on the blonde girl running towards her. "Don't move so coarsely in these premises," she called, enjoying Cynthia's embarrassed reaction and her correspondingly subdued pace. "Walk to me slowly and tell me what you want after you've caught your breath."

Cynthia blushed, forced to meet her eyes as she assumed a more ladylike gait. She could notice Galatea's smirk from a mile away. _You don't waste a single chance to make my knees weak, do you_?

"So?" asked the tall, silken-haired beauty. "Do I have an answer? If you say nothing, I will assume that is an answer in itself."

Cynthia gritted her teeth. "You're wrong, Rosa Chinensis. I do have an answer. I _will_ be yours."

Galatea raised an eyebrow. "I see. That wasn't too difficult."

"I've made up my mind. I will accept – "

"There's no need to bark out what the heart yearns for," interrupted Galatea, surprising her. "But before I place these prayer beads around your neck – " She loosened her rosary and began to glide closer. " – You'd better make sure you'll have no regrets. We'll be sisters for a whole year, bound to each other by sacred commitment and by the Virgin as our witness. At least, that's what our College diaries say," she added, her voice lowering to a scornful mutter. "It's retch-inducing."

Cynthia blinked, before letting out a quiet giggle.

"What's so funny?" asked Galatea, genuinely curious.

"You have so many sides to you. That is why everyone follows you – because you reflect everything as they are, like a prism. Yet you've had no one to reflect your own heart, even though Miria and Flora have tried. They love you, and I think I do too." Cynthia stopped her giggling with a sigh and looked Galatea in the eye. "No matter what you pull on me, I'll be committed to seeing you through your last year. You've gone through your second year without a petite souer. I'll make up for that in my own way."

Galatea allowed herself a smile of sincere admiration. "It seems I underestimated you. Now I'm really interested in seeing you live up to your words." She put a finger to Cynthia's chin and guided her to look up. She took her rosary and held up her hands, allowing Cynthia to gaze at the silver crucifix.

"Love requires sacrifice," demanded the Red Rose quietly.

Cynthia nodded in assent, closing her eyes.

Galatea chuckled as Cynthia bowed her head. Around came the rosary, and Cynthia felt a slight weight in the centre of her chest. Galatea took her by her round shoulders. "That's it." Cynthia glanced down, staring at the cross between her breasts. It had been surprisingly informal. She certainly didn't feel any different. But she couldn't worry about that now. Galatea's eyes were shining, and her lips were dangerously close to her nose. "From now on, you address me as 'elder sister'. Nothing else. If you call me by anything else, I will not respond to you."

"So – so how can I win your praise?" stammered Cynthia, her heart pounding and her emotions thrown into turmoil by her grande souer's simmering whisper. "Elder sister?"

She squeaked as Galatea suddenly poked her in the cheek with an imperious finger. Her fingernail felt sharp. "For starters, boil me some tea at the Council lodge. Prepare some for the other Roses, too. And clean up the place while you're at it," said Rosa Chinensis coolly. She turned on her heel, the wind blowing at her blonde tresses. "When I come back from class, I expect the lodge meeting room to be spotless."

Cynthia stared at her back. After a few moments, she gave a cross "_hmph_" and strode determinedly past Galatea. "I'll show you what I can do," she said petulantly, bumping lightly against her arm on purpose as she marched off in a huff.

Galatea's smile only grew wider. She couldn't help it. The child was simply too much fun. So adorable, she made the heart bleed.

Her wish was coming true. This was going to be an interesting year indeed.


	4. Cutting the Threads of the Past

_Every morning, the girls of Teresa's Catholic College pray before the statue of the Virgin Mary upon arriving. Their youthful spirits are tempered by the refined elegance of the school's traditions. Their uniforms are deep green and haunting silver. Their collars are prim and tidy, and the pleats of their skirts are to be kept neat._

_Walking slowly is preferred here._

_Teresa's Catholic College: it is a school for silver-eyed maidens, cultivating spirituality, self-discipline, and modesty in all its students._

* * *

**Cutting the Threads of the Past**

_Fencing Club, Tuesday afternoon_

The clashing of steel épées echoed throughout the hall. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows as two masked figures in full fencing attire tried to outscore the other on a conductive strip. On the side, three juniors in their school uniforms watched as the slightly taller fighter effortlessly parried her petite souer's duelling sword.

"I'm always amazed by Rosa Foetida," cried Yuma in awe. "I can't even see where Clare's movements begin, but Miria sees through everything she tries."

"Clare's attacks are fantastic. They come from nowhere," said Cynthia, as the Yellow Rose lured Clare into chasing her down the strip, before moving into a blinding counterattack and off-balancing her second-year en bouton. "But Miria's just… _better_."

Clare struggled to regain herself as the electric tip of Miria's blade buzzed again and again, registering hit after hit on Clare's chest protector and jacket. The petite souer attempted to deflect a relentless flurry of stabs, but Miria anticipated Clare's retaliation and burst into a pre-emptive lunge, pushing her back with a merciless thrust to her facial mesh.

"She predicted Clare's prediction," observed Yuma, gobsmacked.

Tabitha couldn't help staring in wonder. "Clare would make mincemeat out of us, but Rosa Foetida's on another level. That's why they call her 'Phantom Miria', and that's why she's the star of the fencing club."

Clare shouted instinctively as she made a frantic charge. Miria shuffled back calmly, striking Clare's knee twice before colliding with her in a victorious stab to the stomach. Clare came out the worse from the corps-à-corps and tumbled to the ground, landing on her backside as the first-years clapped in awe of Miria's skill.

Tabitha was clapping the loudest, her eyes shining in admiration of Rosa Foetida.

"You don't telegraph, but once you're distracted by a disadvantage you return to being flat-footed. That's the bane of good fencing. Your back leg's sluggishness will ruin anything you do," declared Miria, flicking her sword to her side with a sharp _swish_. She removed her mask with her free hand, looking down at Clare. Her long, spiky hair spilled down her jacket. "Don't forget that swordplay involves more than just the arm. Think of your blade and arm as merely extensions of your legs. If you want to score consistently with your épée, your lower body needs to be up to the ambition."

Clare removed her own mask, not bothering to get up. Her hair was cut short, in an almost tomboyish way. Her silver eyes reflected her injured pride. She stared up at Miria, unsure of how to reply. Her sword lay forgotten on the strip.

Miria smiled. "Don't worry, my en bouton. You're a fast learner. You've already surpassed Helen and Deneve. I look forward to relinquishing my championship for a younger generation after graduating. I'm sure you'll be a prime contender."

Clare avoided her gaze, as if they shared a secret she couldn't stop thinking about. "Thank you, elder sister," she muttered uncomfortably. "But I'd prefer to follow you for a little longer."

Miria turned to the freshmen. There was a feminine strength about her that was stronger than even the knights of old Europe. "Swordplay is a discipline every lady should try," she declared. "It encourages self-control, develops courage, and cultivates honour. It also empowers us against lesser kinds of men. This is part of the College's commitment to developing its students in a complete way. I'm glad Tabitha and Yuma let me sign them up. Have you given it any thought yet, Cynthia?"

Cynthia shuffled sheepishly. "Actually, I was thinking about joining Undine's fitness club. I know it sounds strange, but…"

_I want to do it for Galatea. I want to… impress her_.

"You want to try your luck with the brutish Undine?" broke in Miria's voice. "Although I suppose you haven't seen how that uncouth bodybuilder acts outside the gym." She looked at Tabitha and Yuma as Clare slowly stood back up. "My petite souer is obviously more skilled than you two, but she is also learning and training for the regional competition. She would make a good partner for you. I taught you the basics a few days ago. Who'd like a go at a live opponent?"

Yuma poked Tabitha in the shoulder. "You can go first," she said meekly, watching Clare pick up her sword.

Tabitha couldn't have looked more eager. "Sure," she said, her eyes reflecting the smile of the Yellow Rose.

_Rosa Foetida looks and acts severe, but it's because she really cares for the younger students_, thought Cynthia uneasily. _I wish Galatea would give me the same kind of advice. But she seems enjoy just… having me around._

_Sometimes, I really wonder if she made me hers just for giggles_.

* * *

_Lily Mountain Council lodge, meeting room _

Cynthia tilted the teapot, pouring hot tea into the stylish cup before her grande souer. "I'm sure you'll enjoy this, elder sister."

"Thanks," said Galatea, taking a thirsty sip. She leaned back against her chair, sighing in satisfaction. "These tea leaves are good. Since when did you learn how to capture the flavour so well?"

Cynthia bowed her head humbly, and Galatea glanced at her blonde locks. "I'd like you to help me with the notes I've prepared for the philosophy club. I'm losing members to Undine's damned fitness club, but I reckon if I entice in more of the first-years, it can survive the year's budget cut for our meetings and activities."

"Ah… about that." Cynthia lowered her eyes, gathering her courage. "I'll help you out with the philosophy notes, of course. But… I actually want to join the fitness club."

"What?" Galatea put down her cup and stared piercingly into Cynthia's eyes. Her tone was still mild and nonchalant, but it had an accusatory tinge. "You really should give my club a try. It's seriously easygoing. We chat about cool, trippy stuff, like epistemology and time travel. We study topics some people don't know can actually be studied. Whatever are you joining Undine's lame crowd for?"

"Because…" Cynthia looked away. "_I want to please you in my own way_," she wanted to say. But she couldn't give the details. She couldn't even speak. Galatea's annoyed, irritated voice was blocking out any alternative route of explanation.

"I don't like that, Cynthia. I think you're cute enough. But if you insist on your vanity…" The Red Rose had made a concession, but her expression made no secret of her disappointment, of her feeling of being cheated, thwarted. She continued to drink her tea, falling into a cold silence. Her attitude, usually so detached and indifferent, seemed oddly petty this afternoon.

_Don't tell me you're jealous of something so minor_, thought her en bouton desperately._ You know I am already yours_…

Galatea suddenly reached for her, but Cynthia flinched reflexively at the urgent touch, and Rosa Chinensis withdrew her hand reluctantly.

"Where is Flora?" asked the petite souer awkwardly.

"Choir club," replied Galatea uneasily. "Maybe you could go and see what it's like. You still haven't joined the fitness club, right?"

"No. I'll see what the White Rose is doing, and then I'll go home. See you tomorrow, elder sister." With that, Cynthia walked towards the door, her footsteps unexpectedly hasty.

"Kitten."

The en bouton stopped without turning back. "Yes, elder sister?" she said tensely.

Galatea stared determinedly down at her teacup. "The Greek philosophers thought of love as an illness of the mind. The yearning thoughts. The aching heart. The envy that can follow. They all point to nothing less than a mental disorder. I think they were right. I don't usually let trivial things get to me. I'm feeling sick, like I'm not my usual self. And it's because of you."

"I'm sorry for afflicting you with such pain, Rosa Chinensis," sniffed Cynthia, in a rare display of frustration. Before she could stop herself, the withering words had left her mouth. "How you find a cure is your problem."

She strode out without looking back, ignoring Galatea's stunned and wounded face.

* * *

_I hurt her._

_She tried to express her vulnerability in a way that wouldn't hurt her pride, and I couldn't take the hint. I misunderstood her insecurity for conceit._

_Why did I get caught up in the heat of the moment? Why couldn't I let my grande souer off the hook? Was it because I had lost the perfect image I dreamed up for myself? _

_Even when I knew from day one that my elder sister is far from perfect_?

It had been a day since their brief but simmering quarrel. Cynthia spent recess wandering dejectedly in the garden outside the astronomy block. In truth, she had almost instantly regretted her hurtful retort to Galatea. She didn't know how to face her today, even though she wanted to. She needed to. She wouldn't last long without her snide yet attractive smirk. She wouldn't last at all without the touch of her elegant hands.

She flipped open her mobile phone and accessed her message inbox, re-reading the text Galatea had sent her earlier in the morning. It was to the point, and it compounded her guilt tenfold. It simply read:

_I don't want to stop you from doing what you want. Go ahead if you're still up for joining gym club_.

"I'm sorry, Galatea," sniffled Cynthia. Her dark green school clothes fluttered in the wind. "I feel terrible. I'll find the courage and integrity to talk to you this afternoon, I promise."

* * *

_Late afternoon_

It wasn't hard to find Rosa Chinensis. She was at the sculpture of the Virgin again, finishing up her prayer before she went home. The green hedges loomed over her. Cynthia cried out her name, and the glamorous senior turned around, her chrome eyes flashing in recognition. "Kitten," she said in a cautious voice. "Did you get my message? If we could leave our little misunderstanding behind…"

"You like giving me suggestive nicknames," mumbled Cynthia, hurrying into Galatea's arms. She gave a tight hug, burying her face in the Red Rose's chest. The warmth underneath the uniform and neckerchief was undeniable. "I shouldn't have taken it upon myself to rebuke you. If something stops you from expressing yourself the way I prefer, I shouldn't feel wronged – "

"It's because of my damned ex-grande souer," blurted Galatea out of the blue, and Cynthia stopped in her tracks, startled into silence. "She's the reason why I took so long to choose my own sister, and why… why I might seem a bit dysfunctional when it comes to these troublesome matters."

Galatea's hands unconsciously tightened around Cynthia's waist.

"Your elder sister… who is she?" asked Cynthia, intrigued.

"She was the Red Rose before me, but she never graduated from Teresa's College. She was expelled for her affair with a staff member," replied Galatea. Cynthia did not hide her shock. "But then again, she never wanted to belong here. She had become an atheist, and all the teachers despised her. She was too arrogant, too smart-arse. But she could see reality better than any of them. She was the one who made me think more deeply about myself. At the same time, she played me, tortured me with her cruelty and sexuality, and I loved her for it. But you are different from me. You know better than to love people like I do. Your ways are innocent, and therefore closer to God's ways."

Galatea closed her eyes, her grimace one of genuine pain. "I'm sorry for seeing myself in your eyes. I scorn the establishment as much as the next feminist, but I've been observing you these last two weeks. And you… you reflect all my weaknesses, the incorruptibility I never had."

"Elder sister, don't apologize," urged Cynthia, her eyes shining. "It's not like you. You have your pride to keep, don't you? Would it be possible for you to just tell me what's weighing down your heart? I ask for nothing more. Your kitten will do her best to lick your wounds."

Galatea nodded, her usually sarcastic expression tinged with a haunting melancholy. "Then I'll tell you about my elder sister, the first Rose to be expelled from this school. She was the only Rosa Chinensis who never made it to graduation. And the most disgraceful irony is that I loved this shameless girl more than the Virgin herself."

She smiled. "Confessing to you… feels a hell of a lot better than talking to Father Ermita."

Cynthia could not help her fascination. She was about to learn of her grande souer's mysterious past.

* * *

Author's note: I hope you're enjoying the story so far. Bringing the Claymore characters into a Marimite setting has been great fun (and funny). I couldn't resist the image of Miria as Rosa Foetida in a fencing outfit, complete with an expertly wielded épée. Her leadership in the manga/anime was easy to transfer into a real-world setting where she would be the leader of a real-life club involving swords. ^o^ I think she makes a fantastic Rose and a great role model for the younger Claymore students of Teresa's College. Of course, the other two Roses are role models in their own way – Galatea for her critical, sceptical thinking and Flora for her graceful open-mindedness and quiet strength.


	5. Brunette Blasphemous Rose

_Every morning, the girls of Teresa's Catholic College pray before the statue of the Virgin Mary upon arriving. Their youthful spirits are tempered by the refined elegance of the school's traditions. Their uniforms are deep green and haunting silver. Their collars are prim and tidy, and the pleats of their skirts are to be kept neat._

_Walking slowly is preferred here._

_Teresa's Catholic College: it is a school for silver-eyed maidens, cultivating spirituality, self-discipline, and modesty in all its students._

* * *

**Brunette Blasphemous Rose**

_One year ago_

"_I am your father," echoed the oily voice. "Forget the parents who died after leaving you in my hands. Your only purpose now is to serve God, submitting yourself to his representatives. To me in particular."_

"_You ask me to serve God. Which God, exactly?" retorted Ermita's sardonic stepdaughter. "The God who puts men like you in power? The God who appoints degenerates as his emissaries? Do you infallible males ever realize how disgusting you sound when you open your lonely mouths?" _

_She was a second year, already jaded by the authorities of Teresa's Catholic College. Yet she still clung to her faith, hoping that she would meet someone could change her mind. Her prayers were soon answered, although that person would not be what she bargained for. Her soon-to-be grande souer was a third-year – the mysterious Red Rose of the Lily Mountain Council. _

_But Galatea wouldn't know that until she encountered her halfway through semester. _

* * *

Another boring afternoon period had concluded. To make matters worse, the head count of her philosophy club was dropping alarmingly low – only three students had attended the latest meeting about ethics and morality. Typical. She never expected to have a decently big turnout, anyway. Few girls would ever have the same interests as her. What this school needed was a revolution. A revolution started by some real thinkers, some real feminists who were perhaps also willing to believe in God. But that wasn't likely, and she couldn't blame them.

Tired and cranky, Galatea pressed her hand against the doorknob and pushed grumpily. She stepped into the classroom, her eyes falling on a frail, short brunette, who was standing beside the school's burly but dull-witted janitor, Dauf. The girl had reached up on tiptoes, pecking the lovestruck Dauf on the cheek as he stood in front of the chalkboard. Galatea slammed the door behind her loudly, confronting the illicit couple. "What do you think you're doing? Least of all in my club room?" she demanded, an angry lump rising in her throat.

The brunette, whose brown fringes covered her forehead, slowly turned her head, adjusting her uniform's collar. Her dark irises, which were unusual for students of Teresa's College, flashed with interest. "Oops. Looks like we've been caught red-handed, Dauf," she tittered at Galatea's scandalized face. "To answer your question, I'm rewarding my boyfriend. What else does it look like?" she asked, meeting Galatea's eyes directly.

"Don't tell anyone! Don't tell Father Rimuto," groaned Dauf. "Riful did nothing wrong."

"Maybe you deserve to lose your job," snapped Galatea. "This probably illegal relationship in a school for the Virgin is an embarrassment to the College – and you," she snapped, turning to the nonchalant, brown-haired student. "Who do you think you are, anyway?"

"I'm Rosa Chinensis," sniffed the mischief-maker. "Red Rose Riful, third-year and member of the Lily Mountain Council." She gave a flippant wave of her hand, and her lover shuffled away, his eyes shining with adoration. "Go away, Dauf. I'll call you when I have use for you again."

"Sure, dear," guffawed the burly man. He turned and glared at Galatea. "Don't tell anyone. I don't care about losing my shitty job, but there's no way Riful's going to get expelled because of me."

"I can't be so sure," sniffed Galatea in disdain. Although she was quite sure she heard the words _Rosa Chinensis_, she wasn't sure if she was willing to accept it. She opened the door again. "You two disgust me already."

Dauf lumbered past her, taking his mop and bucket and shambling out of the room, his face genuinely troubled.

"Now…" Riful ambled over to Galatea, looking up at her with an expression that simply did not care. "Let's get all that sand out of your snatch, shall we?"

"Why is our Rosa Chinensis like this?" said Galatea in stunned amazement. "This is the first time we've met, but my impression of you is already unsalvageable."

"My, your tongue is like a whip. It stings, but I can't help feeling good from it." Riful giggled. "Your name. May I have it?"

"Galatea," said the other. "But just how do you expect to wriggle your way out of…"

"Wriggle?" said Riful, her smile unwavering. "Do you think I actually want to run away? That I am a coward and do not think through the things I do?"

"I – I can't see why you'd think through something like that and do it anyway – "

Before Galatea could scream, Riful had pinned her against the back of the door. Her strength was incredible for her size – she looked so fragile, but her grip was painful. Riful sidled up against the struggling second-year, her eyes shining slyly. Galatea could feel her lips barely touching her neck. "You won't tell anyone? Come on, do me a favour and promise, sweetie."

"Damn it, get off me, you deviant, abyssal – " Galatea let out a sharp, boyish shout as Riful's hand found her rear and squeezed hard. A surge of instinctive pleasure shot through her body, astonishing her with its intensity. Never had her legs tingled so. Never had she been speechless like this. Then the soreness set in, and she tried to break free again. But Riful's warm breath stopped her in her tracks. "What – what are you – "

"You're so naïve," sneered Riful. "You feel hated by God and the men in this dump, yet you don't have the guts to make a statement." Suddenly, she let go, leaving her junior to stare at her in humiliation. "Come on, don't make that face. If you can keep my secret with Dauf, I'll keep the secret that you actually enjoyed that. Deal?"

Galatea's cheeks were burning as Riful sauntered past her and out of the classroom.

* * *

In less than three weeks, Riful became an annoyance to Galatea. They also shared an overwhelming sexual passion. There was the inconvenient fact that Galatea grudgingly admired Riful for her independence and disassociation from the norm. Little was known about this petite brunette, except that the teachers hated her. Where she had come from, who her parents were, Galatea found little motivation in finding out about these. Why did Riful despise this school? Why did she really hate the Divine so much? These nagging questions did not remain for long. What mattered was that she could learn under her.

There was also the inconvenient reality that she had accepted Riful's rosary. Why on earth had she done that? Where was her common sense? Where was her prudence? Usually, the ritual of the en bouton rosary was something every junior dreamed of as a private, romantic ceremony between two students. But unfortunately for Galatea, hers was anything but a ceremony, and nothing but blasphemous, sacrilege. It happened in the changing room, when Riful physically overpowered Galatea again, pressing her against the ground and holding up her cross.

"Come on, take it. I won't stop until you accept this damn crucifix. You're a masochist, and you know it," breathed Riful heavily, earning a low moan from her en bouton. Still in her uniform, she smirked as she straddled the helpless blonde, whose blouse had been roughly torn aside. She stared at her tightly closed eyes that hid burning silver irises. "It's true that you're frustrated with me because I'm going to get expelled the way I am. But I won't be boxed into a place I don't believe in. You shouldn't let yourself be, either. Be like Dauf and me. Because what is human life but chaos organized into patterns we can understand? Isn't it better to face the truth and deal with it your own way instead of seeing reality through a lie? You think I'm screwed up? Just look at Father Rimuto. Damn him to hell."

Sandwiched between Riful's skinny legs, Galatea couldn't think of a retort. This was the worst way she could have ever been presented a sacred rosary. Yet to her horror, she found herself agreeing with most of what Rosa Chinensis said. She grunted as Riful stroked her again, this time more violently. The senior smiled, pinching Galatea's red cheeks joyfully. "Do you still want to resist?"

"Of course I do."

"Can you swear that in the name of your Lord and your God?"

Galatea's eyes shot away, avoiding Riful's lustful gaze. "I… I can."

"Then swear it now."

The second-year struggled feebly, but her resolve had withered and died, along with her faith in the old God, the old God of an old book cobbled together by power-hungry old men. "I… can… But I just don't. I don't want to resist you." Galatea stared desperately into her grande souer's eyes. "So there. Are you satisfied that you've humiliated me? Are you satisfied that you've killed my God?"

Riful's happy smile broadened as she kissed the trembling en bouton on the mouth, and the latter shuddered in guilty pleasure. Their hot breaths mingled ferociously. "Then, why the hell are you still following the bastard?" whispered Riful, in between biting Galatea's lip so hard that it bled.

"Damn you," whispered Rosa Chinensis' en bouton, shuddering at the agonizing pleasure, at the thrilling sting. She kissed Riful again and again, and lifted her slowly to press against the locker. For all her frustration, she could not help but treat her new elder sister with the tenderness of a reverent worshipper. Riful gazed up at her triumphantly, delighted by her reluctant homage.

"Follow me, like Dauf has. Make an idol out of me."

* * *

Three long months had passed. The Red Rose had summoned Galatea to the lodge. They didn't talk in the meeting room, however – they met at the back of the house. Riful looked strangely pensive, and Galatea instantly sensed that something was wrong. Perhaps it was how Riful looked – her clouded eyes, or perhaps her jaded walk. Either way, although she did not look angry, she was in no joking mood either.

"I'm leaving the school," smiled Rosa Chinensis, after several moments of silence. "This is my last day as a student. They've given me a couple more days to pack and tie up loose ends, but I'm going to be moving out of these suburbs next week."

_Wait. Expelled_? came the wild thought.

"What?" whispered Galatea. "Why are you telling me this so suddenly? Why now? Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"The priests and nuns have expelled me for my relationship with Dauf." She paused. "I guess Dauf is an idiot. Someone else dobbed us in. Don't worry, darl. I trust you and don't think you had anything to do with it. But I guess… it's not acceptable to the establishment filth that students date staff members."

"You're lying," challenged Galatea immediately. "I don't believe it."

For the first time, Riful looked sad, although it wasn't because she had been expelled. It was because she could sense the desperation in Galatea's words. "Well, who cares? I'm more than happy to leave this place behind," whispered the senior. "I don't hate the student who reported us at all. I'm pretty lucky it's actually taken this long."

"How can you say that in front of me?" whispered Galatea, her voice simmering with simultaneous indignant rage and distress. How dare Riful insult her – _wound_ her – like this? "When you offered me your cross, I took it despite myself. And this is how you repay my courage?"

Riful never replied to that. Perhaps it was better left unanswered, so that Galatea would not be hurt further. "For your own good, maybe you shouldn't try to see me again," said the Red Rose sincerely. "I'll keep my academic credit. I've just been set back a semester. I'll study somewhere else, no biggie. Dauf will keep his job as janitor here – I made sure of it. He'll be fine on his own. Now that I'm not a student here, no one can complain about our relationship."

She stared down at her hand, at the absent rosary around her wrist. She stared at a shaking Galatea, smiling sadly. "I know it's meaningless now, but it was good to have you as my en bouton. But I don't want to be your elder sister anymore. Let's not be part of this school's charade. Let's be each other's lovers. _Real_ lovers. Playthings, toys. I'll drop by every now and then. And we'll do lots of naughty things when we… touch base."

"Are you for real? I don't understand you. How can you give up on yourself like this? On me?" Galatea gritted her teeth. "You… your guidance… lewd, dirty, and indecent as you might have been to me… you meant more to me than God himself."

"That's not saying much, from my perspective." Riful moved towards her. She slowly reached for Galatea's neck, tugging at her beads lightly. "And I'm not giving up on anything. I have no one to blame. Nor do I have anyone to praise. This is just life. Life is just chaos. But in that chaos is your freedom and free will. Remember that always, or I'm going to spank you hard."

"Oh, shut up," growled Galatea, flustered, momentarily forgetting her heartache. "Haven't you teased me enough?"

"Oh, big G, you think you're all that, but sometimes you really let your pure heart shine through." Riful giggled, reaching up on tiptoes and kissing her petite souer on the lips. "I lost faith in this school and its God long ago, but you're still my angel," she whispered. "Bring dignity back to the title of Rosa Chinensis. And remember this: _find a petite souer who will love you like you loved me, and treat her better than I have treated you_. And pass on your rosary earlier, got it? That's my final instruction to you.

"Maybe that's how you can find God again, if you want to. I sure as hell am happy the way I am, and none of the Fathers are convincing me otherwise."

Closing her calm eyes, she turned her back on her lover, and began to walk in the direction of the school gates, waving back casually as she passed the looming oak trees. She didn't even care to say one final prayer by Mary's statue.

She wouldn't miss this place, but she would miss one person.

"Goodbye, Galatea. If there's anyone who can be called a blessing, it's you."

Galatea could not help but stare helplessly at the retreating girl, as if a horrible accident had changed her life forever. Her torturer, her thorny Rose was gone, and her pricked heart would never be the same come third year.

* * *

**THE TWIN GODDESSES CONTINUES WITH CYNTHIA'S SCHOOL LIFE...**


	6. Passion at Avila

_Every morning, the girls of Teresa's Catholic College pray before the statue of the Virgin Mary upon arriving. Their youthful spirits are tempered by the refined elegance of the school's traditions. Their uniforms are deep green and haunting silver. Their collars are prim and tidy, and the pleats of their skirts are to be kept neat._

_Walking slowly is preferred here._

_Teresa's Catholic College: it is a school for silver-eyed maidens, cultivating spirituality, self-discipline, and modesty in all its students._

* * *

**Passion at Avila**

Cynthia never knew if Galatea saw Riful again. She never knew what became of the brunette Rose or where she was now. She could only throw herself into Galatea's arms by the end of her story, hugging her grande souer tightly, hoping her soft body might do something to take away the injustice of it all. In all honesty, she wanted to ask if Galatea still loved Riful, because she could not help feeling the jealousy that comes with witnessing the devotion of one's beloved for someone else: much like the devotion Cynthia was feeling now.

But she didn't want to look selfish.

"Thanks for listening," muttered Galatea, caressing the golden locks of her junior's hair. "I never told Rosa Foetida or Rosa Gigantea about this. Can you keep it that way?"

"They love you so much," insisted Cynthia, hardly daring to believe that she could now be so intimate with the Red Rose. "You've been hurting them too, you know. Everyone's been hurt – you and Riful especially. I wish I could be of help to you even more, now. As your petite souer, and as your kitten."

"For all its prestige, Teresa's is just a high school," sighed Galatea, staring at Cynthia's hand as she cradled it in her own. "What's a good Rose to do? Not much, except work hard and be a good example. Unlike me." She smiled. "And what's a petite souer to do? Not much either, except find some time to talk with her grande souer. Re-enchant her when she feels annoyed with the world. In that sense, you've been doing well."

She slowly kissed the back of Cynthia's hand, before running her lips along her knuckles, moving on to her fingers and kissing her smooth nails. It was an expression of gratitude, but also of honest desire. Cynthia gasped loudly, looking briefly up at the sky as her head tilted back in utter delight. She felt her toes curl inside her school shoes.

_I… I must be looking so weird_. _I think… I'm really falling in love with her_.

Strictly speaking, Rosa Chinensis had never kissed her – not yet. But something had changed since Galatea's confession; something between them had grown. And this rose of affection – this lily of mutual care – would only continue to blossom at this College of feminine virtue.

Long did Galatea hope this would last.

"Even so… I… want to help you more and more," mewled Cynthia, staring excitedly at her senior's tender, kind expression. She felt her back arch at the rather erotic, searing touch, and in turn, Galatea felt gratified by the other's pleasure. "I want to be the most helpful girl you have."

Rosa Chinensis smirked, her demeanour regaining its usual wryness, confidence, and self-assured smugness. "I can think of several ways for you to achieve that."

There would always be a place in her heart for Riful, but now a small little bedroom had opened within, just for her Cynthia.

* * *

"So, Classical Theatre Festival is round the corner," cackled Helen, rubbing her hands mischievously. She brought a rough arm around Clare, who was sitting beside her on the teacher's desk in a deserted classroom. Clare coolly lifted Helen's hand away. "Originality, costumes, and a big after-party – that's where the real fun is."

"Classical Theatre Festival?" asked Yuma in surprise, setting down a stack of books beside a sleepy Tabitha, who had her head and arms plonked on the table. "Even when exams are so close?"

"It's all up to the Roses. They decide what the performance is, and who's in it," laughed Helen. "I'm definitely an asset, so I know I'm in. I'm not obsessed about getting good grades. Not like someone else's giiiirl-friend," she called, turning towards the door and winking. Rosa Chinensis' en bouton had just entered the classroom, and she looked radiant.

"Well, well… this is something," sniggered Helen, her intuition all too accurate. "How nice to have the gang together here, free to plan our little shenanigans without the Roses' knowledge. I wish Deneve would be a better sport sometimes," she added, disgruntled by the fact that Deneve had gone to join Undine at the gym.

The girls looked beautiful together in their modest, deep green school uniforms. "Hi, guys. What's happening?" said the clueless Cynthia cheerfully.

"The Classical Theatre Festival," piped up Yuma. "You'll be coming too, right?"

"Well, I need to ask Galatea," replied Cynthia, blinking in surprise. "If I can, I'd _want_ to come, but Rosa Chinensis actually doesn't like that sort of thing. That's my feeling."

"We all know that. It's as obvious as day," smiled Helen. "But that's never been a good reason not to join the fun. I mean, our group's not big to begin with – it's always just been Deneve, Clare, and me, and now we've got you three. A sexy sextet!"

"But Galatea is the Red Rose, and the Roses have a duty to attend to the younger grades," said Cynthia. "I'm sure we're not the only ones who talk to them. School's always stressful for the student council leaders."

"You're missing the point," said Clare suddenly. Cynthia stopped and stared at her.

"After the last Rosa Chinensis got expelled, Galatea suddenly stopped coming to anything where there were younger students. She had to be dragged there," murmured Miria's en bouton. "She was always a loner. But it was almost as if she didn't want to see the happy faces of younger girls, especially those who looked up to her."

Cynthia felt her heartbeat quicken. _Riful_, she thought in realization. _Maybe they reminded Galatea of how she felt about her own grande souer_.

Helen clapped her hands together. "Cynthia, you know Rosa Chinensis better than us now. She's never let anyone this close to her before. So you're the one who can change her this time round."

Tabitha and Yuma looked at each other. "That does sound like a meaningful thing to try," said Tabitha supportively.

"There's always the issue of costumes. The Roses will decide the play and what we're going to wear," said Clare matter-of-factly. "Rosa Foetida told me that Rosa Chinensis is not one to refuse straight out. So if you can get her to agree to come to the Festival, then the only hard part is getting her into a costume."

"It's worth a try – I'll talk about it with her," assented Cynthia, her smile full of warmth as she remembered the intimacy she had shared with her superior. "But how can I help Rosa Chinensis get an outfit?"

"Duh. Isn't that drop-dead simple?" cried Helen, and her next words would send Cynthia into a shocked, blushing silence.

"You go shopping, then to her house, _then to her room_!"

* * *

"I have a wonderful twist on the Cinderella story," gushed Flora, tapping a pencil on her notebook. It was almost evening, but no matter – her private meeting with Miria was productive, and they planned to eat dinner together anyway. Clare had relayed the juniors' plan to the Yellow and White Roses, which was to persuade Galatea to join the Classical Theatre Festival. As long as Rosa Foetida and Rosa Gigantea had a majority vote, Rosa Chinensis wouldn't be able to refuse.

"Suppose the fairy godmother is a beautiful, heavenly angel – one that Cinderella cannot help but feel attracted to. Our protagonist is given her gown, shoes, and carriage, but upon arriving at the palace, is utterly disillusioned to find the prince flirting with every other female guest. He was not a man who would want only one partner. Knowing well that the fairy and her magic will disappear by midnight, Cinderella flees, desperate to express her gratitude and love for her benefactor. The story ends with the promise of a new journey, as a joyful Cinderella is taken to the world of fairies."

"That's a fantastic idea," agreed Miria, who was sitting across from Rosa Gigantea. "And you plan, obviously, for Galatea to be the fairy godmother?"

"Correct. And to provide an incentive for Rosa Chinensis, we will have her en bouton, Cynthia, play the role of Cinderella. And what about the two stepsisters?"

"I suggest Clare and Deneve," said Miria, without a trace of humour. "And Helen can be the evil stepmother. But who will play the prince?"

"Shall we invite the leader of the student council at Sutafu Academy? He is a bit of a socialite, admired by his entire school, and probably by some of our own," suggested Flora. "It would be good to have Teresa's and Sutafu work together in this production." She looked thoughtful as she placed a finger to her cheek, trying to organize her arrangements in her head.

"If I remember correctly, his name is Isley."

* * *

"So the ladies are asking me to play an irresponsible, charmless, undesirable prince – a prince who doesn't even get the girl in the end." The blond, handsome Isley closed his eyes in irony and smiled as he folded up the letter from Rosa Gigantea of Teresa's College. "That's a rather creative twist to _La petite Pantoufle de Verre_, especially to have Cinderella fall in love with her angelic godmother. But it's a happy ending, and it's magical. That's enough for me. Apparently, Rosa Chinensis and her en bouton are slated to be the protagonist lovers. What do you think, Rigardo?" he asked, addressing the dark-haired boy facing his table.

Rigardo was an exemplary student at the prestigious male school of Sutafu, his Windsor tie expertly done with a spotless white shirt and jet-black blazer. Numerous badges adorned his coat. He was Isley's closest friend, although his emotionless face made him look like more of a right-hand man than a best mate. "It's obvious, isn't it? Their proposal might be a good way to bring our schools together, and promote activities between our students. More importantly, don't you fancy one of their third-years, Luciela?"

"It seems awfully petty to join the production just to go to the school of my crush." Isley sighed, regretting that he lacked the time and chances to ask out Teresa's notorious and rebellious class-skiver. She barely showed up to school herself, and it was a surprise she hadn't been expelled like Riful, whom Isley knew of vaguely.

"But your other points are well taken. I'll contact the Lily Mountain Council and promise our collaboration."

* * *

_As Christmas creeps up slowly, preparations for the Festival begin! It's going to be an exciting time for all the students at Teresa's College._


	7. Those Elusive Words

_Every morning, the girls of Teresa's Catholic College pray before the statue of the Virgin Mary upon arriving. Their youthful spirits are tempered by the refined elegance of the school's traditions. Their uniforms are deep green and haunting silver. Their collars are prim and tidy, and the pleats of their skirts are to be kept neat._

_Walking slowly is preferred here._

_Teresa's Catholic College: it is a school for silver-eyed maidens, cultivating spirituality, self-discipline, and modesty in all its students._

* * *

**Those Elusive Words**

_Might you be free to come shopping with me on Sat? _

Cynthia's invitation was a simple one, sent over a text message she typed at home. She didn't know how else to actually _ask out_ her grande souer. The whole prospect was intimidating in itself, but their hidden agenda (choosing an outfit for Galatea) seemed even more audacious. And the thought of ending up in her house… in her room! She had never even thought of the prospect… but now, it was something very possible. It would be a miracle, an honour, if she got as far as her doorstep.

Galatea's reply was short and wry. Cynthia read it on her phone:

_Kitten, if you want me for a date, you'll have to be more specific._

"That's still a yes," whispered the first-year ecstatically, staring at the words. She undid her hairtails, going over the words again and again. "I've got you now!"

She flopped back down on her bed, which she had been sitting on. She had taken off her school blouse, and it sat folded on her cupboard. Her neckerchief, which she treasured dearly, was laid aside. Galatea tied it properly for her on that very first day at Teresa's, starting everything… including these feelings. There was so much to be amazed about Galatea. She was glad that she hadn't been a disappointment.

Cynthia fingered her bra's lace playfully, trailing her finger along her torso as she thought of her mentor's beauty, her charismatic gaze and silken hands. She recalled her smooth lips, that tall, curvaceous figure, and those suggestive words of hers. She internalized every sentence, every sultry statement from Rosa Chinensis, and as she reminded herself of Galatea's warm cuddle, she let out an unconscious sigh, as if in pain. She could lie here all day, evoking what was nothing less than the most enjoyable, pleasurable days of her school life. Her body shivered with desire, and everywhere seemed to itch. It didn't feel right, not when her beloved wasn't here to touch her this very moment.

"Come Saturday, I'm letting you know how much I need you," whispered the en bouton, as she continued to fantasize about the Red Rose caressing her amidst lace and velvet blankets.

* * *

_Saturday_

The sun was shining and the sky cloudless when they met at the bus station outside the gates of Teresa's College. Cynthia arrived first, but Galatea was not far behind. In a white tank top, jean shorts, and thongs, Cynthia could not help noticing how much classier the other was garbed: snazzy, leg-hugging trousers and a jet-black, slim t-shirt. "Thanks for inviting me out," smiled Galatea, nudging down her sunglasses to peer at her petite souer. "I usually spend my weekends curled up with a good book and Papa Haydn. But being curled up with you is just as well, I suppose."

"You're beautiful," blurted Cynthia, staring at Galatea's arms and upper body… everywhere she could lay her eyes on. "So beautiful it's not fair."

The other could not help laughing. It had been an eternity since she was so relaxed, so at ease. Even her usual humour and biting wit, which was more of a coping strategy for stress, couldn't compare to the contentment she was feeling today. "You're such an honest child. You're looking good yourself. I can't notice your fine figure in our drab uniform… but with those shorts and top," observed Rosa Chinensis, "I can see almost everything. And you _are_ pretty."

It felt wonderful to be praised by her. Tabitha and Yuma always said Cynthia had nice legs and shapely hips – perfect for shorts and skirts. "I wore these on purpose," confessed the junior, as Galatea took her by one hand and brought an arm around her waist. "I like sporty clothes."

They stared at each other as Galatea's grip tightened, unable to stop visually ravishing the other.

"So, what do they want?" said Galatea, and Cynthia's expression turned blank. "Miria and Flora have something planned, don't they? I know you and the others are in with them. What is it? Tell me now, or I'm going to make a fuss about it."

Cynthia hung her head in realization. She had only been fooling herself. How could she or Helen or Flora have hoped to fool the greatest Rose of them all? Her experience outranked her by two years, her wisdom and perceptiveness by many more, perhaps. And here she was, trying to get her to buy a theatre costume on the pretext of a date? Sheer naivety!

"Kitten, what are you doing?" Galatea's hand cupped Cynthia's cheek. Her silver eyes melted her knees again. "Because it's you, I won't say _no_ yet. Tell me, honestly, what the other Roses want, and I won't be too much of a spoilsport."

Cynthia closed her eyes, not only in wonder at Galatea's warm hand but also at her sense of fairness. Yes, this was the day – this was the day she was seeing a new, unique side to the glamorous Galatea, who was many things – self-centred, haughty, proud, and even bitter, but kind-hearted above all.

"The bus is coming," whispered the en bouton, hearing the approaching motor of the city circuit. "Why don't I tell you inside?"

* * *

_Central, shopping district_

"Cinderella, huh?" Galatea frowned as they hopped off the groaning bus. Galatea tugged Cynthia's hand and set off in the direction of the shopping malls lining Central Avenue, a bustling but comfortable hub for shopping and eating out. "So that's the play they've decided to do."

"And the twist I told you about," added Cynthia. "The fairy godmother won't be a kindly pixie, but a beautiful angel who Cinderella falls in love with."

"My role, or so they hope. And who's the lucky lead?"

Cynthia smiled shyly. "Me."

Galatea paused in surprise. She hadn't expected Miria and Flora to plan so far ahead. "They're really desperate for me to be part of this, aren't they?" She shrugged. "I guess it's alright, then."

Shocked, Cynthia lowered her head, muttering something under her breath.

"Say what?" smiled Galatea, looking closely at her petite souer.

"I said, this is embarrassing," mumbled Cynthia. "We thought it would be really hard to persuade you, so I… I wanted to talk with you personally, to convince you how exciting it would be for us to fall in love in the play. But now you're agreeing with us just like that."

Galatea smirked at her honesty. Cynthia would never make a good saleswoman. And that was fantastic.

"The other Roses were right to think I'd resist. I always did so before. They've always been bugging me to be more involved in things, and I knew they would try to use pawns in their epic struggle – including my own petite souer. But this time is different."

Cynthia started. "Why?"

Galatea drew near, and her lips just barely touched Cynthia's nose. "Haven't you thought of the possibility that I might like the prospect of acting beside you?"

_Whoooah_! thought Cynthia excitedly to herself. "Erm. Okay. Hang on," she muttered, taking out her phone and texting furiously.

"What are you doing?" sighed Galatea. "You're an active one, indeed."

"Reporting to the Roses," whispered Cynthia, her blush deepening further.

"I don't approve of you reporting to anyone except me." Rosa Chinensis chuckled. "They put in a lot of effort to reel me in, didn't they?" She pursed her lips in concentration. "I'd probably want to get something mid-range price-wise. I hate looking cheap."

Cynthia paused and lowered her phone. She wouldn't have many chances like this at school. She took a deep breath as the words began to force themselves out of her mouth. "I… I have something to say to you, big sister."

Galatea nodded. "Go on, kitten."

_I love you_. At least, that was what she wanted to say. But to Cynthia's horror, it went completely awry. "I… I don't want you to leave this school so soon," she whimpered, her face suddenly looking like she saw a ghost. Rosa Chinensis looked surprised, but her en bouton was even more shocked with herself. She couldn't stop. She could only speak what was on her mind: how precious this relationship was and how she did not want it to end with Galatea's inevitable graduation. "I can't imagine anyone else as Rosa Chinensis, least of all me. But you're a third-year already. That terrifies me."

"Hey, hey," murmured Galatea. "Get a hold of yourself. I'm not going to pull a Riful on you." She gave Cynthia's waist a reproachful squeeze. "Stop this at once. It's graceless and unbecoming for my en bouton and heir."

Cynthia felt herself gasping for air in between stutters and little sobs. She did not feel tears, but her eyes were moist. "What am I going to do? We only have one year together. Then you'll graduate and move on with a job or university. What will I do then?"

What was happening to her? _I don't know what's coming over me_, she thought miserably._ It must be the fear that she'll be like Riful, and hurry away from the College. But as long as I can be someone worthy for her to come back to, then I will ask God for nothing else._

_And in the end, I didn't tell her those three words_.

Rosa Chinensis smiled, bringing up her hand to stroke Cynthia's cheek. It was not enough (it was never enough), but it helped. "That was a lovely thing to say," murmured Galatea, understanding her en bouton's vulnerability. She had felt the same way about Riful. "Look, it's true that the souer relationship usually begins with a second-year and first-year. As you know, I was late. But no one said this relationship has to end when a grande souer graduates."

She drew down kissed Cynthia's bare shoulder lightly, earning an "oh!" from the other.

"You'll be just fine," whispered Galatea. "I don't intend to forget about Teresa's. I like the other Roses. I like the juniors. And I don't intend to let you out of my sight. Now, if I've put your mind at ease then let's do what you took me out to do. Let's find the costumes we need for the play."

Cynthia nodded, her cheerful self returning thanks to Galatea's promise.

"Okay!"


	8. Angels of Time

_Every morning, the girls of Teresa's Catholic College pray before the statue of the Virgin Mary upon arriving. Their youthful spirits are tempered by the refined elegance of the school's traditions. Their uniforms are deep green and haunting silver. Their collars are prim and tidy, and the pleats of their skirts are to be kept neat._

_Walking slowly is preferred here._

_Teresa's Catholic College: it is a school for silver-eyed maidens, cultivating spirituality, self-discipline, and modesty in all its students._

* * *

**Angels of Time**

_Windcutter Estate, somewhere on the outskirts of the city_

Miria pressed the buzzer by the side of the grand, Baroque gate before her. "This is Miria, Rosa Foetida of Teresa's Catholic College," she said into the speaker. "Rosa Gigantea invited me to join her today."

"Of course, Miss," came the butler's reply, and the golden arch began to creak and give way before her eyes, turning inward to welcome her. "Please come in."

The Yellow Rose began to walk, and greeting her were two lines of majestic oaks flanking a long road that led to the Windcutter House, the mansion of Flora's family. She stared up at the cloudless sky, across which birds from Flora's gardens soared.

The festival was around the corner. There was much to talk about.

* * *

She found the table beside the hedge of red, yellow, and white roses. On the white cloth were two cups, a pot of Royal Blend, and all the accessories that completed a perfect high tea. Rosa Gigantea was waiting, her pearl-white hand gesturing towards the freshly baked scones, cakes, and jam that her butler had prepared. "Good day," beamed Flora. "My peerless swordswoman. My one true knight."

"Good day," smiled Miria, sitting down on the chair opposite Flora's. "For you to take all this trouble…"

"Oh, no, please don't say that. Vincent is always more than happy to welcome guests to our home. I feel guilty that he is paid to tend to someone like me, so I do my best to make his work less boring." Flora stared at Miria's casual jacket and jeans. "I must say I envy you, for you are the freest and bravest lady amongst the Roses and the College."

She and Flora shared a curious relationship. They were complete opposites: Miria was almost tomboyish in her fencing and leadership, whilst Flora was the epitome of what it meant to be a female at Teresa's. Galatea was like an angel to them (albeit a cynical one), but to each other, they were human: Miria a knight, Flora a princess. So they perhaps were closer to each other in the trinity of Roses.

Frankly speaking, it was a relationship of love. Flora wouldn't think of it as anything less. Certainly, she had fantasies about her handsome, dark-haired servant Vincent, who was ever the silent and polite gentleman – a tall, slender guide of impeccable pedigree and loyalty. But she also loved Miria as well, this equal who she thought was better in many respects. "The logistics of the festival have been arranged, and the costumes have all been ordered and fitted. If I'm not incorrect, Rosa Chinensis and Rosa Chinensis en bouton have also bought their costumes. We only need to spend the next week rehearsing, and then we will be ready to bring joy – and a new perspective on Cinderella – to the school."

"I'm glad to hear that," replied Miria, nodding. "I'm looking forward to distracting myself with something different – to put it bluntly, I'm bored of fencing. I can only wait until Clare reaches a standard that surpasses me, and until then I have little interest in the other girls who join just to watch me. Sometimes I don't think they're even listening to what I say because they're too busy admiring me."

Flora's smile grew shy, although her heart was melancholic. "I'm… sorry… that Rosa Chinensis and I could never fill the gap that opened in your heart after Hilda graduated. The two of us can only stand by your side when we, too, leave Teresa's, and allow a new cycle of meetings and partings to begin."

"Don't say that," cried Miria. The memory of her beloved mentor and the previous Rosa Foetida, Hilda, was so sweet that it felt a bit painful, but she did not want to hurt Flora's feelings. "You have both been important to me. Don't forget about Galatea when she also suffered losing Riful. It's not like I'm the one who was hurt the most. It was only natural that Hilda graduated. And I wouldn't survive as a Rose if you hadn't – "

"You wouldn't have even ascended to the rank of Rosa Foetida if it wasn't for Hilda," broke in Flora, taking a cup of tea and sipping quietly, as if to calm the emotions within her. "You are really her petite souer – bound by both duty and affection. It is not surprising that you chose an en bouton like yourself."

"Clare…" Miria stared at the scones, her usually decent appetite losing enthusiasm. She regretted that Vincent would probably be throwing most of the cakes away. "I… I want her to be strong and kind, like Hilda was. I dare not say that she should become like me, because I am still learning."

"Oh, my. Everyone is always learning." Flora reached out and put her hand over Miria's. "I still remember in first year, you were the one who brought our friends together. You were the only one who could impress Galatea, and you took me in under your leadership. It is my honour to be the Rosa Gigantea of your generation, Rosa Foetida."

Miria turned away, as if Flora's kindness was hurting her. "Stop. Stop, or I'm going to see Hilda in your eyes. I don't want that happening to either you or Rosa Chinensis."

Flora slowly drew back, her eyes shimmering in apology. "I'm sorry, Rosa Foetida. I am really, deeply fond of you. I wouldn't dare to wound you in any way, least of all in such a cruel fashion."

Miria smiled bitterly, reaching for Flora's hand. Flora looked surprised, but remained silent when she noticed the Yellow Rose's brooding face.

_You say I'm strong, Flora. It's but a show. I can't even look at you or Galatea, or even Clare, without seeing dear Hilda. I can't help thinking where she might be working now, or which university she's in. I can't helping hoping that she might visit our school one day, or we might bump into each other on the street… _

_In reality, I'm the weakest out of everyone_.

* * *

Cynthia was disappointed they didn't have the opportunity to try on the outfits. Her Cinderella costume would be taken care of by Flora, but they needed to be creative. Helen probably had some good tips for fairy tale makeup, but that would have to wait. Why? The answer was obvious.

Out of the blue, Galatea had invited Cynthia over for tea after they finished their shopping rounds. She had said, "_That's right. You've never dropped by before, have you? Why don't you come over and bum around for a while before that dreaded day of woe called Monday is upon us again_?"

Helen's words echoed in Cynthia's head again. They continued to echo for the entire bus ride to Galatea's home.

_To her house_?

_To her room_?

_I haven't even told her I love her. I never let her know that I've come to depend on her and I want her to depend on me. This is just too good… too fast_.

Galatea's house was an ordinary one along a straight, clean street. It was of a pleasant pastel colour, with two floors. Galatea's adoptive father, Ermita, had left in the bank a decent sum of money that she could use until she started working and saving. Although Rosa Chinensis was a rather vain person and distrusted Ermita, she had followed his wishes, living a relatively thrifty life for her own sake.

_So I'm here_. Cynthia stared around the room as she sat on the mattress of Galatea's single bed. It was not overly adorned, but tastefully filled by a desk, laptop, and a generously filled bookshelf. A vase of flowers sat nearby her computer, and beside her mouse was a coffee coaster. The en bouton smiled shyly at her host. The latter looked beautiful in a flowing blue dress that exposed her thin arms and legs. This time, it was Cynthia's turn to be waited on.

"Care for refreshments?" asked Rosa Chinensis, smirking and mirroring Cynthia's uncontrollable smile. The mood was good. There was a slight tension, but it was the kind of tension that could only lead to intimate things.

"Just water," replied the other politely, her bare feet fidgeting. She had discarded her thongs outside: she truly wanted to make herself at home here. Galatea's bed was comfortable: it smelled of lilies and lilacs. The entire place was a new world to her; she hadn't finished taking in its colours, shades, and textures even after Galatea returned with a glass of iced Evian (and an ice coffee for herself). The Red Rose handed the cool glass to Cynthia and briefly indulged her gaze, staring at her petite souer's shapely leg. Her slightly curled toes, curved so enticingly and expectantly.

_Fine, it is true_, thought Rosa Chinensis grudgingly. Her petite souer really was quite a beautiful girl, with a body touched by the hand of God.

No way Galatea was letting the old man keep her.

_Cynthia is mine_.

Rosa Chinensis en bouton yelped as she felt Galatea's chilled hand on her knee. The other had knelt down, and had placed her arm imperiously on her thigh. "_O Cinderella, let me cast my spell and make you grand, that in the prince's eyes you may proudly stand_," said the Red Rose, smirking.

"Oh… um… _Good fairy, that I am eager to do, but why does my heart jump not for him, but for you_?" replied Cynthia, catching on quickly.

Galatea nodded in approval. "_What did you say, lovely child? I heard you not, for your sweet voice is too mild_."

Cynthia's tongue locked in her mouth. _Oh bummer, what comes after that? Come on, it's not long_? She struggled to recall her next line until Galatea squeezed her hand, indicating that she was satisfied.

"Not bad, but could be better. Practice whenever you have time. I'm not going to hold your hand in the real thing, and it's next week. Are you sure you're ready for the real thing?"

"You're really into this," giggled Cynthia, embarrassed and encouraged at once. How she enjoyed being in her grande souer's bedroom. It felt surprisingly homely, as if Galatea had subconsciously arranged her room to be incomplete without the company of another. How it contrasted with her lone wolf attitude. "It's almost like you've totally changed your mind about the play. Rosa Gigantea told me you didn't attend a single event last year."

"That's because you weren't here," said Galatea bluntly, and Cynthia flushed at the unexpected honesty. "I couldn't care less – and I mean it in the strongest way – without you trying to persuade me."

Cynthia's grip intensified around her mentor's hands. "That was so wonderful to hear and know. Thank you, big sister." She beamed down at the kneeling Red Rose. "I'll make you proud, and I'll make the festival a fantastic time for you."

Galatea closed her eyes to avoid staring too passionately at Cynthia. "Good," was all she said, but that one word was a mere restraint to keep her from blurting out too much that would make her vulnerable, helpless, a slave before the innocent Cynthia.

_You're a magnificent girl, and a superb petite souer_, thought Rosa Chinensis._ I only wish I could have been like you for Riful. I'll probably never introduce you to her, though. She'll make advances on you, and I want you for myself._

_Don't leave me_.


	9. Cinderella, I am Yours

_Every morning, the girls of Teresa's Catholic College pray before the statue of the Virgin Mary upon arriving. Their youthful spirits are tempered by the refined elegance of the school's traditions. Their uniforms are deep green and haunting silver. Their collars are prim and tidy, and the pleats of their skirts are to be kept neat._

_Walking slowly is preferred here._

_Teresa's Catholic College: it is a school for silver-eyed maidens, cultivating spirituality, self-discipline, and modesty in all its students._

* * *

**Cinderella, I am Yours**

_Saturday_

The visitors' parking lot was a lot smaller than she remembered.

Stepping out of her humble but comfortable Toyota, an ashen-skinned woman in a business dress leisurely made her way toward the Grand Hall of the College, where the Theatre Festival was going to be held.

_I spent some very happy days here_.

Her eyes were elegantly almond-shaped, and her ears were unusually long, like a Celtic elf's. She had personally been invited by the nuns to attend this performance. Apparently, it featured a new twist on the Cinderella fable, and starred the current generation's Rosa Chinensis. That was enough to earn her interest.

"Ah. What a nostalgic mood," whispered the tall visitor, staring at the statue of Mary at a distance, and reminiscing wistfully. It almost felt melancholic to see all this again. It evoked so many memories.

"Excuse me. Do you need some directions?" broke in a young voice.

The elven woman turned around and stared imperiously at the shorthaired girl before her, before showing just a hint of a smile. "And what nostalgic, dark-green uniforms. May I have your name?"

"Clare," replied the surprised student. "I'm the petite souer of the current Rosa Foetida."

"So you're an en bouton?" confirmed the other. "What a noble encounter I'm privileged with."

"Are you here for the performance?" asked Clare.

"Yes," said the visitor. "I'm an alumnus of this school, so all I have is this ticket." She reached into her handbag and held out her pass. "Two of my juniors, Sophia and Noelle, couldn't make it, but I suppose I'll enjoy this performance two times over for their sake."

"You're an alumnus?" said Clare, her eyes betraying slight bewilderment. "I'll show you to the hall right away."

"No. No, I know my way around here. But thank you." The elf-lady's face suddenly broke into a warm smile, a smile that she rarely showed. Her eyes fluttered shut as a gust of wind brushed at her long hair. Autumn leaves were falling from the trees. "After all, I helped establish the Lily Mountain Council. I was one of its founding members, alongside the woman whom this school is named after."

"_Teresa_?" cried Clare. She found it hard to believe, and suddenly, a hundred questions were swimming in her head about this person and the very name of Teresa. She never knew that the school was named after one of its own students. "You're a founding member of the student council?"

"Ah, my apologies. I'm revealing all this when I haven't even told you my name. I've forgotten all the courtesy I was taught here."

Clare's beautiful guest gave a sudden, almost playful bow. But it felt truly enjoyable to relive old habits.

"Good day to you, Clare. I'm Irene."

"Good day… Irene," mumbled Clare, bowing instinctively in return.

"I have the feeling we've already met before. I don't know why. Perhaps in another neighbourhood? Another time? Another world? Who knows," shrugged Irene, as she watched Clare closely. "As I said, I know this school quite thoroughly. I assume you're taking part in the play, so I don't want to delay you. I look forward to seeing this generation of students carry on the tradition of sisterly love."

"Hey, Clare," cried a breathless Cynthia, running towards the pair. "We're almost running late. Tabitha and Yuma have already set up the props. We need to get dressed – oh!" She stopped quickly as she noticed Irene and gave a quick bow. "My apologies for the intrusion."

"You have nothing to apologize for." Irene smiled and turned away, her high heels clacking on the pathway. "I really should join the audience now. I have no right to keep you. Impress me, you two. I'll be watching you, right from my seat."

Cynthia and Clare stared at her retreating back. "Who was that? Do you know her?" asked Rosa Chinensis en bouton, her innocent eyes wide in curiosity.

Irene's words continued to echo inside Clare's head. So that woman was one of the original Roses. But somehow, Clare didn't feel the need to tell Cynthia. It was as if Irene had told _her_ in the form of a shared confidentiality, trusting it to an intimate stranger. After all, it seemed that Irene knew her. Strange – Clare never saw any elf-eared women as a child. But maybe she just didn't remember.

So she would keep Irene's little secret.

"Just some random from alumni, Cynthia," smiled Rosa Foetida en bouton.

* * *

It was the climax of the scene at the castle ball.

"You still have stage fright," observed Clare, watching Deneve tremble from head to toe behind the curtain. "Not much longer left to go. Get your act together, selfish sister."

"Easy for you to say, stone-heart," muttered Deneve, taking Clare's hand and running out to the stage prop of the palace. They were dressed splendidly to mark their visit to the prince. They hurried towards Sutafu Academy's top student, Isley, who had agreed to play the male role. His royal character and attire was drawing quite a few excited whispers from the female audience. Clare and Deneve ran past Cynthia, for in the story the sisters did not recognize Cinderella. Her hair spilling freely, Cinderella was clad in a light blue gown, and her eyes were turned back at Isley, who looked quite comfortable in his role as a womanizer. His hands around Clare and Deneve's waists, he suddenly stared at Cynthia, who took the silent cue and stepped back, her expression matching her scripted emotions.

_Here goes. No hiccups for any scene so far. _

_Don't stuff this up, Cynthia_.

"I… don't love him. I cannot bring myself to love him. He… is not my prince, after all. My uneasy feelings have not deceived me." Cynthia looked out towards the full hall, doing her best to match the gazes of her schoolmates. "I have fallen in love with my benefactor, the angelic fairy who helped me when my family wouldn't. She is more of a mother than my own, more of a sister than my two, and the lover who the prince can never be." She raised a shining, gloved hand. "The clock is striking twelve! Her magic will disappear, and she will vanish too. I must hurry as if my life depends on it! Because my heart certainly does."

She rushed down the steps of the palace prop, her fingers gathering up her dress. She recognized the striking of the bell (initiated by Yuma backstage). The hall echoed with a dramatic twelve rings as Cynthia purposely stumbled, leaving behind one glass slipper.

"Fairy godmother from Heaven!" cried Cinderella. "Please wait! Please stay in this world, or take me to yours. I have no need for this gown of pretence. I have no desire to ride a carriage, be it made of gold or pumpkin. I need to know and love what is real! What is true! I need to know and love you!"

At Cinderella's desperate plea, the angelic fairy, Galatea, glided onstage. Although it was her second entrance by now, gasps still came from the adoring students. The Red Rose didn't disappoint: her outfit was a white dress that accentuated her tall figure and boasted her slender, sandalled legs (a complete rewriting of the original tale's portly godmother). A halo prop illuminated her blonde hair, and the stage lights brightened her bare shoulders and arms. She clutched a long wand, and behind her unfurled a large pair of superbly designed feather wings. She opened her silver eyes, smiling radiantly.

"Great light!" called Rosa Chinensis. "What is this tenderness making its home in my bosom? What is this heat dwelling in my immortal breast? That this girl would run back to me even after I have prepared everything for her happy future with His Royal Highness?" She raised her head to look at Cinderella. "But I must depart from this world. The witching hour is upon us, gorgeous child. My magic is dying. Surely you must go home – or the prince's guards will find you."

"Good fairy," cried Cinderella, as she tumbled into the angel's surprised arms. Gasps could be heard amongst the seated girls, and the watching teachers weren't sure what to think. "Why would I wish to go to my cold house, when I can live in your warmth?"

The godmother's eyes softened. "Your love will be not only a beginning, but an end."

"I care not for crowned heads as long as you, holy angel, are mine."

"Then, sweet girl," beamed Galatea, "I am yours." She embraced Cinderella, and they met each other's gazes. The couple's hearts pounded loudly against each other's chests as their faces drew closer. _Let's do this_. Obeying Flora's rather steamy script, Galatea faked a long kiss, her lips just missing Cynthia's mouth as she pressed quickly but convincingly against her petite souer. Trembling hotly and her eyes closing, Cynthia could not help hoping that her Rose would kiss her for real one day – somewhere more private, of course.

_You wrote all these lines just for us, didn't you? I'm going to get you back for this, Rosa Gigantea_, thought Rosa Chinensis, even as she savoured Cynthia's taste and scent.

The sisters remained wrapped in a warm embrace as several classmates cheered and shouted in touched appreciation. _This will do for now, I guess_, decided Cynthia happily. There was little time to think of anything else.

"I will take you to my sacred land," declared Galatea, as the play came to its rousing conclusion. She waved her wand, and a hail of glitter burst from the ceiling, descending towards the stage and earning cries of amazement and delight from the audience. "And show you true love with my own hands!"

With that final line, the curtain fell to the dramatic climax of trumpets, drums, and violins. Smiling, Isley bowed, and Clare and Deneve hurried to join Helen, Tabitha, and Yuma, who had revealed themselves with the other cast and stage members. They clasped hands and bobbed curtsies as applause and cheers began to thunder enthusiastically throughout the Grand Hall. Cynthia and Galatea linked arms and also curtsied deeply as they disappeared behind crimson.

"Success," muttered Clare, as the clamour from the audience was muffled.

"Congratulations, Cynthia," whispered Yuma joyfully.

"I still can't believe I got cursed with a minor part," mourned Helen.

"Rosa Gigantea did that on purpose," said Clare bluntly and pitilessly.

"Thanks for helping us out, Sutafu president," smirked Deneve.

Isley chuckled. "The pleasure was mine."

"You were mesmerizing, _ma grande souer_," gushed Cynthia, glancing up at her beautiful senior. "Did you notice they were all looking at you?"

"Doesn't really matter," smirked Galatea, breathing a sigh of relief. "Because I was looking at _you_."

* * *

Sitting anonymously in the crowd, Irene could only sit in silent amazement until she noticed that the Great Hall had exploded in approval.

_How disappointing. It's over_.

An erotic, intriguing twist by Rosa Gigantea on the Cinderella plot. The handsome Isley from Sutafu Academy in a prince's suit. Rosa Chinensis as a sensually costumed angel, and her promising en bouton as Cinderella herself. If there was anything more that was worked toward pleasing the girls of Teresa's, it might even have felt overdone. Even the priests and nuns could not help feeling proud of the creativity of the play's lesbian plot (at least the fairy was an angel from Heaven). The students did not stop cheering. Galatea's performance had even earned several standing ovations. After all, it was so rare to see Rosa Chinensis at any of these large-scale school events that it had surprised many to see her throw herself so earnestly into her character. There was no question about it – it was because her petite souer had been playing Cinderella.

Corny? Perhaps. But Irene couldn't care. Perhaps she secretly wanted it to be corny, because that was what memorable moments were all about. Rooted to her seat, she clapped and clapped until her hands were sore, red, and stinging. To other members of the audience, she didn't look pleased at all. She looked like she was grimacing, but that was only so that a sentimental tear wouldn't sneak down her cheek.

She felt so happy.

_If only Teresa could see this._

_I barely know any of you. But for the simple fact that you carry the legacy of this College so effortlessly… that you love so sincerely and truly… I thank you and love you too._

_Two thumbs up, for all of you_.

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED**

**FESTIVAL SUCCESS - CELEBRATE WITH GALATEA DOWNTOWN!**


	10. Love Reigns

**Chapter 10: Love Reigns**

_How do I love thee? Let me count the ways_.

Snuggled close to Galatea, Cynthia shuffled her feet shyly as she listened to Helen wail at the top of her voice in the private karaoke lounge. No one in the room cheered the loudmouth girl on, but she didn't care. Deneve and Clare had tired expressions on their faces, but hints of a smile remained on their faces.

Helen was a friend who made them laugh.

"I'm so glad the festival is over. It was difficult to keep up the act for too long," sighed Miria, who sat beside Flora. "Why don't you sing?" asked the Yellow Rose.

Sitting straight on the red sofa, the White Rose looked at Miria in surprise. "Me?"

"It's natural, isn't it?" said Galatea, taking a sip of melon soda – one of the many soft drinks that stood on the table in the centre of the room. She gave a rare, encouraging smile. "You are our resident diva after all, Rosa Gigantea."

Cynthia smiled to herself.

_You are confident._

"Very well, then. I'll try my best."

Flora chose a song – Cynthia didn't know who the artist was – and began to sing with her angelic voice. Yuma and Tabitha stared up at her in utter amazement, and Clare simply sat in admiring silence. Galatea chuckled. "Ha! I told you, Cynthia," she said suddenly, pulling her close. Cynthia blushed at the sudden intimacy. "I told you Flora is good at everything. She's the saint of our school."

_You are complicated_.

Cynthia knew well of Galatea's quirks, of her weaknesses and faults. But they were part of Rosa Chinensis – they were partly why she was so seductive, so winsome. It was the same with Miria's sternness, or Flora's perfectionism. The Roses were not perfect – they were perfectly _imperfect_.

Yuma and Tabitha began to fight over the remote. The choice was dire, a matter of life and death – eighties music or pop? Helen laughed as Deneve and Clare snickered. Galatea could not help joining in, holding Cynthia so tightly that it felt as if they were one person.

_There are so many ways I love you. Maybe I can never explain them completely. And I probably don't want to. Or I'll lose sight of your eyes… the touch of your hands_.

The Roses and their juniors continued to sing, laugh, and cheer into the night, and it would be early morning before they left the karaoke bar and gone home.

But Cynthia would not look back. She would always look forward to the next day, the next time she could see her big sister again.

_No matter where I am, you'll always dwell in my heart._

* * *

A/N: So here I am in London, working and studying. Europe provides plenty of inspiration for European themes, of course, in particular the main setting of this light-hearted fanfic and its inspiration, Maria-sama ga Miteru. But I can't help but miss Japan, which is my favourite holiday destination hands down. Because in the end, this is a fanfic of two Japanese anime.

Where did Galatea x Cynthia come from, though? Well, they have pretty much one dialogue in the entire manga (forgot which volume it's in) and it was from that one dialogue that I wrote several stories worth of Galatea x Cynthia. Maybe I'm just trying to find an excuse. But if you ever reread that short dialogue, you might agree with me that the potential was, and is, always there… ;)

Cynthia is comparable to Yumi in Marimite, although more assertive and definitely more physically developed. Galatea's personality, as Rosa Chinensis, is a fusion between imperious Sachiko and sardonic Sei. Even Riful – Galatea's grande souer – resembles Sei's ex-lover, Shiori (although as the sadistic Riful proved, looks are deceptive). I enjoy seeing what happens when Galatea has not only her usual confident personality, but also the inner conflicts of Sachiko and contradictory emotions of Sei.

Twin Goddesses will be taking a break after this short chapter. It will be a short while before I'll be back with this fanfic, but I'm glad I started it and laid the foundations for it. I hope you enjoyed this slow-paced, easygoing story about a prestigious school where our usually blood-crazed or dead Claymores live a normal, peaceful, and quirky students' life.


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